


Reasons

by emilyann2716



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Reader-Insert, could be viewed as platonic or romantic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 02:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13308600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyann2716/pseuds/emilyann2716
Summary: The Doctor comforts his companion when she sees a familiar face, a face she desperately wishes she could forget.





	Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> This is a piece I wrote to help myself cope with a recent trauma, and though I was hesitant to post it, I figured there might be someone out there that could use this to cope as well. The mentions of past sexual assault are not explicit, but they are the basis of the story, so please be careful, loves.

Your feet come to a stop as you glance through the café window, your entire body freezing as you spot a specific face.  _ No, not here… not now. _ You can feel your heart rate already rising, and you swallow as you try not to panic. “Doctor, I can’t go in there.”

He turns on his heel to look back at where you’ve stopped on the sidewalk, face contorted in confusion as he asks, “What do you mean you can’t go in there?”

At your lack of response, he moves toward you, voice firm when he continues, “(Y/N), the councilwoman is inside, and she’s our only hope of preventing the impending attack. We have to reach her, convince her to do the right thing. She’s already brushed me off, but she might listen to you.”

“Listen, I— I’m sorry but, I can’t, I… I have to go back to the TARDIS, I have to—” you start to inch backwards, but he places his hands on your shoulders, leaning down to your eye level. His eyes glance at every aspect of your expression, searching for any kind of information or clues as to your strange behavior, but you know he won’t find the answers he’s looking for. There’s nothing physically wrong with you, no, but your mind? With thoughts spinning at a mile minute and pulling you into bad memories, it’s all you can do to maintain some level of composure.

“The Earth’s safety is at stake here, what possible reason could you have that outweighs billions of lives?”

At that, you start to choke up, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You know he doesn’t mean anything hurtful by it, he has no idea, but it makes you feel incredibly selfish, and guilty. Your chest aches as you try to pull in a breath, and he notes each small reaction, things you don’t even realize you’re doing. “I didn’t mean— it’s not… I know it’s nothing compared to what’s happening now, but, um,” you take a deep breath, eyes screwed shut as you try and fail to get the words out.

The Doctor hesitates for a moment before pulling you away from the café and over to a nearby bench, taking a seat and gesturing to the place beside him. “She’s not leaving anytime soon, we have plenty of time, all the time in the world, in fact,” he assures you with a small smile, his shift to this softer demeanor almost jarring. You sit down next to him, hands shaking at this point, and he almost reaches out to hold them before deciding against it. “Tell me what’s happening in that head of yours.”

“I, um, he—” just thinking about him catches the words in your throat, but you swallow and push forward, “there’s someone in there, a guy, I saw him through the window. He— I used to date him, and, um, it wasn’t good.” You take a shaky, shallow breath, and the Doctor hesitantly wraps an arm around your shoulders, silent as he waits for you to continue. “There was a bad night, a really,  _ really _ bad night, he didn’t—” tears begin to spill over, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“Take your time.”

After a few struggled breaths and small sobs, you clench your fists and go on. “He didn’t respect my ‘no,’ he… he did things, and it—” you break off into another sob, your voice working into hysteria, “it hurt, and I just wanted it to stop and it didn’t— he didn’t—”

He grits his teeth, taking in a sharp breath as he runs his hand up and down your arm, trying to provide some kind of comfort. You, however, stop yourself there, refusing to spiral completely into the past.

“Seeing him again, it brought back all those memories, and I just—” you stare down at your trembling hands, ashamed of your weakness and overwhelmed by that shame. Your broken voice barely murmurs, “I can’t.”

Those words hang in the air, a moment of silence falling between the two of you as the rest of the street bustles on.

With a deep breath, he finally speaks, “I am so sorry. You are,” a deep sigh leaves his lips, “the _last_ person to ever deserve that— that trauma. No one does, but… not you, _especially_ not you, and I’m so sorry.”

You let out a tearful mix between a harsh laugh and a sob, roughly rubbing away at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I hate that I still can’t get through this, that he still has the power to hurt me like this, I  _ hate it _ . I just, I wish I wasn’t so— so  _ weak _ .”

He takes another deep breath. “You, (Y/N) (L/N), are not ‘weak.’ You most certainly  _ are _ getting through this; every day, every time you smile, every time you laugh. You’ve spread so much positivity throughout this universe, and each time you do, you’re taking your life back.” You lean your head on his shoulder, unable to come up with any kind of response, and he holds you closer. “Of course there are still bad days, but they don’t define you. You, my dear, are so incredibly strong.”

“...thank you.” Your voice is small, and it shakes, and it’s all you can say; but he understands, and doesn’t press for anything more. The two of you sit in silence for a bit longer as you quietly cry on his shoulder. He’s soft, and he’s warm, and you focus on that, on his steady breathing and the calm beat of his hearts.

At some point, your ex leaves the café, and you can hear his voice as he walks in the other direction, your entire body tensing. The Doctor, of course, notices, but doesn’t say a thing and only holds you tighter, using every bit of self-restraint to keep himself from hunting down the man right then and there. As the voice fades from your earshot, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. 

Your sobs crescendo slightly, and you bury your face in his shoulder, blocking out the busy world around you and focusing only on his presence. He carefully reaches over with his other hand, fingers moving soothingly through your hair and helping to ground you in the moment. Soft affirmations reach your ears, and though you can’t quite process the words, your mind frayed and spinning, his voice is comfort enough.

You’re not sure how long you sit like that, but he doesn’t once rush you; and as the tears begin to slow, you feel that familiar wave of exhaustion set in. Shaking it off as best you can, you tell him, “I think… I’ll be okay for now.” 

He places a kiss to the top of your head, squeezing your shoulders one more time as he says, “Once this is all over, I’ll put the kettle on, nab some jammie dodgers, and wrap you up in the coziest blanket I can find, alright? But, until then,” he gently moves and stands to his feet, “will you help me save the world, Miss (L/N)?”

His hand is extended to you, and with a deep breath, you take it, brushing away the last of your tears with your other hand. You force a small smile, and though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, it’s clear you have the strength to at least hold out until you find yourselves back on the TARDIS; and he returns it with a soft, understanding smile. 

Your voice doesn’t shake as you finally reply, “I would love to.”


End file.
